Purple things
by Angelada
Summary: He should have known by then that agreeing to a vague and possibly dangerous task handled in by a thief, in a sewer, under Riften, of all places, could only end badly...


Warning: spoilers for the Companions', The Civil War'(minor) and the Thieves Guild(also minor)' questlines.

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It all started with the strange purple gem in Kodlak Whitemane's bedroom. He remembered asking the old Harbinger about it in his first days with the Companions; back when he was still called a whelp and a milk-drinker, by both his shield-brothers and the occasional Nord.

The subject was only approached once, and it was harmlessly forgotten once he started advancing in ranks and improving in skills. It would have remained that way too, had Marius not been assigned Kodlak's rooms after the man in question finally fulfilled his wish of cleansing himself of the Beast Blood and reached Sovngarde. At the time, with the pain of the old man's death still fresh and a lot of unrest and loose ends to resolve, not to mention the quickly approaching battle with Alduin, the Dragonborn was most certainly not inclined to meddle with the old wolf's earthly possession. And to this day, he never did, except when it came to that gemstone, and that one sweetroll that he wouldn't have wanted to go to waste, but that was yet another story.

He didn't know what caught his interest regarding the blasted jewel, but something did, and only he knew how he cursed it with all his being. One day, after returning from a particular long trip, he stopped by Jorrvaskr to hopefully receive some tips from Njada concerning blocking power-blows, especially from two-handed weapons. He saw the thing, still sitting innocently on its shelf, and he just took it.

With all its pretty colour, impressive size and unusual aura, Marius wagered it was worth a good amount of gold. Of course, he was no expert when it came to numbers, and since he happened to have business in Riften, he thought of having it appraised by someone more knowledgeable in the field.

Maul's helpfulness came to mind as he headed for Breezehome in hope of at least a well-rested sleep. They were some perks to no longer sharing one's body with the wolf.

He told Lydia to stay behind, knowing her just as exhausted as he was, if not more so, thanks to their latest cave-trotting, draugr-slaying, ruins-cleaning escapade. She may not have been happy with the decision, but her bruised body not doubt thanked her later.

With the first hour of dawn, he rode his horse out of Whiterun and set a leisurely pace.

He found Riften just as dirty, humid and corrupted as he'd left it no more than two month previous: the same old beggars as before crawling at people's feet, the same wary guards, togged up in imperial garments this time, and the same abundance of crooks and thieves.

Maul, having spotted him from the moment he walked in town, was sending a fiery glare the Imperial's way. Marius held in a smirk, the righthand man of Maven Black-Briar sure wasn't used to being intimidated, and had most certainly not forgot the incident.

What was he to say; being Dovahkiin involved sporting many talents, frightening massive, axe-wielding thugs with a well-placed word numbering within them.

The hero of legend was nothing if not resourceful.

A confident grin now firmly in place, he directed his strides in the direction of the gloomy Nord, dragon-bone armour clanking softly as he walked, helmet under his right arm and pack in his left one. Reaching inside the many pockets of his undershirt, he tossed the peculiar purple stone Maul's way.

"Got any dirt on this?"

For a second, the bulkier man's faced betrayed surprize, but it was quickly replaced by a pleased half-smirk that Marius, truthfully, hadn't been expecting.

"Only way you could've found one of those was by stealing it." The Nord drawled, his smirk growing more evident, and the Dragonborn almost winced at the carelessly thrown accusation. "Guess you'll fit in around here better than I thought. So what do you wanna know?" His accommodating tone was in no way to Marius' liking, so he went straight to business, already eager to get away from his shady companion and this infected city.

"Tell me what this gem's worth." He demanded a bit too smartly.

Maul seemed to notice, and his irritated outburst was more fitted to his usual image. "Do I look like a merchant to you?" A few other choice words and dark looks later, he once again showed his true colour and helpfully directed the Dragonborn to The Ratway. Well, it may not have been in his intentions to help Marius, now that he thought about it -and it was quite likely that Maul would have been pleased to hear of the Dragonborn's death at the teeth of the skeevers- , but still…

The Ratway was, just as its name suggested, more fitted for rats than for men, and the trials it took the Imperial to reach the Guild in the vague hope that they had, or knew, someone capable of examining the jewel, were most definitely not worth the trouble. Skeevers jumping his face were never Marius' preferable way of starting his adventures, and the almost-feral beggars and hermits that needed to be put down were no battle worth detailing.

Long story short, one of the female thieves, a fellow imperial by the name of Vex, recognized the gemstone, and after a neat little story about what became of The Crown of Barenziah, the Dragonborn found himself consenting to recover all twenty-four Stones of Barenziah, without an actual clue to their whereabouts.

He should have known by then that agreeing to a vague and possibly dangerous task handled in by a thief, in a sewer, under _Riften_, of all places, could only end badly; especially since it also involved making him an official member of the Thieves Guild.

He _really_ should have known better.

As luck had it, he was never all that wise, and, needlessly to say, he ended up running errands to please yet another shady group for the succeeding couple of weeks.

Skyrim was turning sorely unoriginal.

The first ten or so gems were surprisingly easy to track down, and relatively simple to get a hand on, since unexpectedly many Jarls and famous fractions had a passion for collecting strange ornaments, and the Dragongorn was nothing if not notorious for his connections. Jarl Balgruuf the Greater proved most happy to give up the stone, as were Maven Black-Briar, Jarl Igmund and even Jarl Elisif the Fair.

On some of the missing gems he stumbled upon on his many trips amidst Skyrim's many caves systems. If there was ever something that Skyrim never seemed to run out of, it was those traps-filled, draugr-infected, danger-breeding caves, that most often than not were a steel-door away from cursed burial chambers, underground cities, unholy or daedric temples, Falmer breeding-ground or bloodletting ritual-places for hagravens and necromancers.

They did have their own, native charm, though, those bloody caves; otherwise he would have long since stayed away from them; and if that charm just happened to consist of small fortunes in gold, jewellery, armours and weapons, than he was all in favour for it.

Searching multiple caves for a specific type of riches, though, hardly ever happened, and he never needed to find twenty-four of the same items. He was used to picking one job and getting it done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

And here started his problem… This was no task that could be done quickly, no matter the amount of effort he invested.

After retrieving around eight stones of Barenziah from various associates of his, cleaning a dozen of caves and ending up with other four, stealing- and that in itself was so very out of character for him- another four, tracking down about seven potential location of the missing ones and effectively covering enough terrain in the course of three months to have reached Cyrodiil and back, the Dragonborn was officially fed up with his duty.

That was at the ends of Frostfall , and, by the start of Evening Star, with seventeen gems safely stored in the chest of Breezehome, the almighty Dovahkiin had given up on finding all the stones and set his sight on a more important and _doable_ goal: slaying the "World-Eater".

The first Tirdas of Sun's Dawn's, the dragon-god had been defeated and the end of the world had been successfully avoided.

Now, with the first of First Seed approaching and all Marius' immediately-imperative obligations resolved, he was certain that the plum-coloured pile of gems was mocking him.

Blasted Barenziah and her blighted golden crown, with all her twenty-four stones!

Fine, he would track down the gems across all Tamriel if he needed, and he would hold the Dunmer's queen prize even if it was the last thing he did…

…but if the rumours were true and he would have to sneak inside the Dark Brotherhood's sanctuary for one of the pieces, he swears that drenching the crown in poison will be the first thing he does before handing it to Vex.


End file.
